


Exhaustion

by buckywlnchester



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, don't worry no one dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:18:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4029880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckywlnchester/pseuds/buckywlnchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And Steve was happy. He was happy to have his friend back. He was happy to fight alongside him once again. Happy that Bucky was finally doing better. That he had regained a lot of his memories. That the nightmares were kept at bay most nights. That Bucky was beginning to feel some sense of normalcy again. And Steve was happy.</p><p>Or at least he knew he should be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exhaustion

Bucky had been living with Steve now for two years.

Two years since the Triskelion. Two years since Steve traveled the world, blowing up Hydra bases in search of his friend. Two years since Bucky had started his road to redemption and recovery.

And Steve was happy. He was happy to have his friend back. He was happy to fight alongside him once again. Happy that Bucky was finally doing better. That he had regained a lot of his memories. That the nightmares were kept at bay most nights. That Bucky was beginning to feel some sense of normalcy again. And Steve was happy.

Or at least he knew he should be.

Bucky was doing so well. He had his best friend, his partner in crime, his six back. And Bucky seemed genuinely happy to be back with Steve again.

But no matter how much Steve tried, he couldn’t feel happy.

While Bucky’s nightmares became less frequent, Steve’s only increased. While Bucky was finally starting to remember happy moments from their childhood back in Brooklyn, all Steve could remember was the bloodshed of war. While Bucky’s mind was getting better, Steve’s was only getting worse.

But he didn’t say anything. Couldn’t, really. Bucky had been through so much torture and pain while Steve had slept for seventy years. So really, Steve knew he didn’t have an excuse. He knew that he had no reason not to feel happy.

The past two years since Bucky had been back had been good to him. He easily fit into the team of misfit superheroes around him. Bucky quickly became friends with Natasha and Clint. He spent time tinkering with Tony and Bruce down in Stark’s lab. He would often spar with Thor and run with Sam. Bucky was doing okay.

Bucky and the rest of the team often hung out. They would have movie nights together, sharing popcorn and pop culture references. They’d go to bars, dance at the clubs downtown. According to Clint, Bucky was just as good at dancing as he used to be, probably even better now.

Not that Steve would know. He never went with them, never hung out with them in the Tower, opting instead to stay isolated in his room. He’d lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and begging the god he didn’t believe in anymore for some goddamn sleep. Begging for that happiness he once knew to return, for the nightmares to stop for just one fucking night. He’d hear Bucky stumbling into the floor he shared with Steve hours later, probably drunk on booze and sex. Steve didn’t know. He never got up. He just stared at the dark ceiling for hours, fighting the ache in his chest and the tears in his eyes, catching an hour or so of sleep before getting up around four am to run until he collapsed from exhaustion on the concrete in front of the Tower. Steve knew he should be hanging out with Bucky. He knew he should be celebrating his friend’s progress with him instead of hiding alone in his room with his nightmares and self-loathing.

But Steve was just so fucking tired.

He didn’t realize just how tired he was until he had gotten on the jet. He and the team were heading for Washington DC. Some mad scientist or something set off a bunch of mind controlled robots downtown. Steve wasn’t really sure. He couldn’t pay attention during the debriefing. His mind was unfocused and groggy. But he didn’t say anything. He was the leader. It didn’t matter how tired he was, it wouldn’t have stopped him before, back during the war.

Bucky was casting him worried glances as Steve tried to focus on keeping his eyes open. He ignored Bucky, opting to focus on his boots to keep himself from giving in and closing his eyes.

The battle itself was nothing too extravagant. The aliens in New York were messier. Ultron’s army was far harder to fight. This battle should have been an easy run after everything Steve had already been through.

He threw his shield at the smaller robots. They were only about four feet tall, no real weaponry. They seemed to prefer to attack with their menial little metallic hands.

“Quadrant three secured,” Natasha said over his ear piece.

“Same with four, five and six,” Bucky replied.

“Oh, well aren’t you just a show off, Grandpa,” Natasha purred over the comm. Steve felt the ache in his chest grow bigger. The rest of the team affirmed that their sections had been taken care of.

“Hey Capscicle, you gonna be done sometime this century?” Tony asked over the comm. Steve was about to reply affirmative when he saw it. Unlike the other robots, this one was at least twelve feet tall of hard, impenetrable metal. He figured that this must be their leader, the mastermind behind all of this. And it was coming right towards him.

He knew he should tell the team, tell them that a twelve foot hunk of metal was walking right towards him, intent on mass destruction. He knew he should think of some way to take this thing down. That he should just throw his shield, sever its head, and rip out its power source.

But he was just so tired. He was tired of lying in bed at night, listening to Bucky having a good time while he stared into the darkness with his thoughts. He was tired of being the leader. He was tired of watching innocent people die because he wasn’t good enough. He never was. He got his best friend killed. Scratch that, Bucky didn’t die. He gave him a fate worse than death. He has been a part of so much bloodshed and destruction. And he was tired.

He watched the metal monstrosity stalk towards him.

“Steve, are you alright?” He heard Bucky ask through the comm. He didn’t reply.

Steve dropped his shield.

“Steve, no one has heard from you for a while. I’m coming your way. Did you get the first two quadrants secured?” He could hear the worry in Bucky’s voice despite his attempt to sound casual. The thing was only about ten feet away from him.

“Steve, I’ve got eyes on you and that – Steve? Steve what the fuck are you doing? Why is your shield on the ground?” He could see Bucky on the rooftop of the building to his left.

The robot wrapped its metal hands around Steve’s throat, lifting him off the asphalt.

“STEVE! STEVE STOP!” He could hear Bucky screaming in his ear piece.

He had read a book once back when he was still in school about hara-kiri.  About how when Japanese warriors had disgraced their country, they would disembowel themselves, sometimes willingly, sometimes by force. The Romans did it too. The great triumvir Mark Antony had done it. He had read the Shakespeare play when he was still that naïve punk from Brooklyn.

He had disgraced his country. He had failed the people who counted on his so many times.

He didn’t have a sword. He figured this was close enough.

He could feel the cool metal on his hot skin, slowly cutting off his airway and the circulation to his brain. He grasped at the metal arm on instinct, clawing at the steadfast grip.

He was becoming dizzy. He could see Bucky running towards him. He had gotten off that roof fast.

“I’m coming, Stevie, I’m coming. Just hold on, punk, just fuckin’ hold on,” He could hear Bucky repeating over and over. Steve locked eyes with Bucky. He was running, he looked terrified, confused.

He stared at Bucky, his best friend, his best fucking friend. He stared at the man that he loved. The man who would never know just how much Steve loved him, just how much Steve adored him. He’d never know because Steve was a coward. He felt the tears run cool down his face.

He locked eyes with Bucky and blacked out.

 

 

***

 

The beeping was infuriating. He tried to open his eyes, tried to move his hands, anything to make that goddamn beeping stop. He tried in vain for what felt like hours before the beeping began to fade back to nothingess once again.

 

***

 

The next time he heard it, he was able to open his eyes. He was immediately assaulted by the bright lights and the crisp white that permeated his vision. Once his eye began to adjust, he became aware of something to his right. He could feel something warm and hard in his hand. He tried to turn his head but found he couldn’t move. He squeezed the object, glad to find his limbs still had movement.

“Steve?” Bucky whispered as he came into Steve’s line of sight. Bucky looked exhausted. His hair was mostly fallen out of the bun he had scraped it up into, the dark circles under his eyes looked more pronounced than they had in the past two years since Bucky had started making strides in his recovery. Bucky’s hand. He was holding Bucky’s hand his brain helpfully supplied. He tried to respond, tried to say Bucky’s name, tried to tell Bucky just how much he loved him, but all that came out was a strangled gasp followed by severe pain.

“Shh, shh, don’t talk Stevie. You’re hurt pretty bad.” Bucky said, smoothing back the stray hairs from Steve’s forehead. “What did ya do that for, huh punk? Why didn’t you fight back? Stevie why?” The tears had started to fall while he talked, quickly turning into full-fledged sobs. Steve squeezed Bucky’s metal hand tighter as Bucky buried himself in Steve’s chest.

Steve tried to be there for Bucky, tried to hold his hand. He had done this. It was his fault that Bucky was hurt. He wanted to make it better, wanted Bucky to be okay.

He passed out again.

 

***

 

The next time Steve woke up, he felt a weight pressed into his right side. Bucky must have moved him while he was out because he was now lying next to Steve on the tiny hospital bed. Well, lying on top of Steve was more accurate. Steve was now able to move his neck enough to look down at Bucky’s sleeping form, his head resting on Steve’s chest.

Steve ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair like he used to when Bucky would wake up from nightmares. Bucky tensed at the feeling of Steve’s hand on his head and sat up.

“Hey Buck,” Steve whispered. He could see the tear marks clearly down Bucky’s dirty face. Knowing him, Bucky probably refused to clean up from the battle until he knew Steve was okay.

“Stevie,” Bucky’s voice broke. This was his fault. All of Bucky’s pain was his fault. He had to make it right. Neither man said anything for a while. Steve was just content to stare into the stormy blue-grey eyes he thought he’d never see again.

After a while, Bucky linked both of his hand with Steve’s and spoke up, “Why’d you do that Stevie? Why didn’t you fight back?” Steve tightened his grip on Bucky’s hands and averted his eyes. “You almost got yourself killed Stevie, is that what you were trying to do? Is that what you want?” Steve stared at the wall past Bucky’s head. He counted the seconds with the clock ticking on the wall. A few minutes had passed before he answered.

Steve could feel the tears spilling over, running over his cheeks as he held onto Bucky’s hands as tight as he could manage and whispered, “I’m just so tired Buck.”

The floodgates broke. Steve couldn’t hold it in anymore. It hurt, fuck it hurt. But he couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t stop the sobs from ripping their way out of his throat. He felt Bucky unlink their hands and crawl up toward the head of the bed, wrapping his arms around Steve’s shoulder and burying his face into Steve’s hair.

“I love you Bucky. I love you so fucking much. I’ve never loved anyone like I love you,” Steve sputtered out between sobs. He felt Bucky pressing kisses into the top of his head as he held onto Steve tighter.

“I love you too Stevie. Love you so much. And it’s gonna be okay. We’ll get through this. We’ll get through this just like we’ve gotten through everything else. I love you punk, I love you.”

And Steve wasn’t sure if he believed Bucky, but fuck, he wanted to.


End file.
